


i can't make you love me

by bluetint



Series: so put another dime in the jukebox baby [8]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 14:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetint/pseuds/bluetint
Summary: prompt: beef stew/cuptime for some angst >D





	i can't make you love me

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: beef stew/cup
> 
> time for some angst >D

The house is awash in bright light streaming in from the French windows. Gleaming wood floors and polished brass twinkling. The room is decorated sparsely, but with whimsical pieces of art that tickle one’s fancy and hint at fine taste. 

The opulence and splendor of the place would do wonders for anyone’s mood. But nothing appeals to Jinyoung. Everything is grey. 

The only thing out of place in the room is Jinyoung and the clumsily sculpted mud sculpture painted in yellows and reds, placed on one of the shelves on the wall. It looked as if it had been crafted by a child’s hands. Mark had told him it was a gift. “It’s a Pikachu,” he’d explained.

The fact that Mark had installed a separate shelf just to display a homemade gift from his niece, aesthetics of the room be damned, did funny things to Jinyoung’s heart.

“How common,” his mother would have said. Sneered at the mere sight of it. His mother sneered at anything that didn’t meet her impossible standards. Had she known what Mark Tuan was really like in the confines of his own home, she would’ve fainted.

The thought makes him laugh. It’s the first one of the week. But it immediately dims when he remembers his husband, who’s been sequestered in his home office. The place where he goes to straight after work and doesn’t come out of until Jinyoung’s gone to bed.

He had known married life would be hard. Observed it with his own two eyes in the confines of his own home. Heard the trials and tribulations of it from his sisters and friends. Appreciated the rewards and benefits (material and otherwise) that came from being in a fulfilling relationship.

Of course, there was the fact that the circumstances of their arrangement were unique. Marrying for financial gain wasn’t exactly the best starting point for any relationship. 

They had been two strangers who had been plucked from the comfort and certainty of their everyday lives and thrown together. Expected to form their own and live like respectable members of High Society.

Quiet thoughtful Mark who wandered around his home in what most people would consider rags but were actually worn items of clothing which were faded and soft from overuse. Didn’t take away Jinyoung’s privileges (as others would) when their spouse was being a brat. Didn’t flaunt his wealth (as most considered it custom to) and despised ostentatiousness. 

Mark who had tried to make Jinyoung feel as welcome as possible. Did not him feel like a stranger in someone’s home. Kept dancing around the reality of their situation.

Jinyoung doesn’t even recall what the fight was about. What he does remember was that his sharp tongue (the ones his parents always bemoaned, saying it would get him in trouble) had drawn first blood. Mark had struck back, his own words sharp as a surgeon's scalpel. Wounds had been opened. There had been blood on the floor.

More than a few weeks have passed since then. Enough time for self-reflection and realizing that you were the one at fault. To swallow your pride, accept your mistake like a mature person.

The clock chimes. It’s time for lunch. The silence is stifling.

Making up his mind and squaring his shoulders, Jinyoung gets up.

\---

Beef stew with boiled rice. When he’d first heard of it, he hadn’t believed it. But the housekeeper had assured him, that it was indeed the Master’s favorite. 

The broth tastes salty with an aftertaste of spice. The rice had been boiled in water and vinegar. Just the way Mark preferred it.

On careful toes, he made his way to the office. Knocks thrice, balancing the tray carefully on one arm. He is told to enter.

Mark’ is still in his work clothes. The tie has come off and the sleeves have been rolled up. His desk is littered with files. He’s surprised to see Jinyoung and it shows.

“I made lunch,” Jinyoung says, feeling nervous. On legs made of lead, he walks over to the table. Mark carefully pushes the documents aside to make room for the tray.

The curtains are drawn. Mark hates that. He also gets confused with the contraption that opens the Venetian blinds. Just an absurd thing, yet Jinyoung finds it endearing. 

He opens them, and sunlight rushes in, like a greedy little dog when it’s called for food. For a brief moment, Jinyoung wants to flee but then he shakes his head. 

He needs to man up. Needs to let the words out. Has to make this work. Turning around, he takes a deep breath - 

“Won’t you join me?” 

\- only to be stopped.

“I’m - I’m sorry?”

“This is a lot for one person,” Mark continues. Pours water into a rickety green plastic cup he’s owned since he was a child. The room is filled with the aroma of spice. “Make yourself at here, come here, you’re blocking all the sun.”

Dumbly, Jinyoung sits next to him. 

“Did you make it?”

It takes him a minute to realize that Mark is speaking to him.

“Yes,” he manages to answer. Mark takes a bite. Chews thoughtfully. Lets out an appreciative sound. It relaxes the knots in Jinyoung’s stomach he didn’t even know he had.

“This is amazing,” Mark breathes. Jinyoung blinks, vision going blurry. His throat aches. With the apology and the realization that Mark is too good to him.

“Jinyoung?” He blinks and realizes the spoon is being held out to him. With a tidy helping of meat and rice on it. His mouth falls open, and his tongue explodes with flavor.

They go back and forth like this, Mark taking turns feeding Jinyoung and himself. Using the same spoon. His mother would have a fucking fit if she could see this. Wellbred gentlemen only ate refined cuisine and they _certainly_ didn't share utensils.

It's the best thing Jinyoung's ever tasted.

“Mark,” he chews and swallows, “I’m trying to apologize to you.” Swallows again. It hurts. “You’re not making it easy for me.” There’s tears streaming down his face and it’s not because his mouth is on fire.

“I know,” Mark says, offering him a sip of water. “It’s just. I missed you. I _miss_ you. But can we,” he grabs Jinyoung’s fingers and squeezes. His hand sighs with joy. “Do this later?”

He opens his mouth. Tastes the salt of his own tears. Blinks as Mark’s face comes into view. “Anything you want, Mark.”

Mark smiles, delicate and happy. Wipes his tears away. This time, Jinyoung’s heart sighs, relieved.

They had a lot to work through. Difficult things to talk about. Ones that would leave them empty and drained but were necessary. For the survival of this marriage and other feelings they hadn't put a name to yet. 

_'The rich didn't marry for love,'_ thinks Jinyoung as he listens to Mark talk. _'But that didn’t mean, you couldn’t try.'_

**Author's Note:**

> if you listen to bonnie raitt's i can't make you love me while reading this it really sets the mood


End file.
